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Birdwatching in Catalonia, Spain: hide-and-seek with lapwing and vulture

The tractor splashed across the stubble of the paddy, its rear end a blur of flapping wings and pecking beaks. Behind it were grey herons, little egrets, lapwings and hundreds of gulls – yellow-legged, lesser black-backed and Audouin's, one of the most endangered gulls in the world. Here, in one image, was the Ebro Delta: a water land of rice and birds.

We had arrived that October afternoon, motoring down in two hours from Barcelona airport to this southern tip of Catalonia. Our hotel was in the town of Deltebre, right in the middle of the delta, perfectly placed for forays to riverine reserves, beaches and, farther afield, to the "drylands" of Alfés and the mountains.

Not that we needed to go far to see birds. We had barely dropped our bags when Mike and Jane, two of our party, called us in to enjoy what they could see on a branch right outside their window: the electric-blue and orange of a kingfisher.

Now we were exploring in and around a private lagoon, Canal Vell, which is just off the main road between Deltebre and the coastal town of Riumar. I can say that with confidence because I have a map in front of me, but I couldn't have done at the time. The delta, an area of 124 square miles of which 75 per cent is given over to rice fields, is a confusing place in which to travel, a network of lakes and watery fields where one lake, one field, looks much like another.

I can say with confidence, too, having checked a trip report, that as well as herons, egrets, gulls and marsh harriers, we spotted greenshank; ruff, wood, green and common sandpipers; common snipe; and ringed plovers. At least, my companions did, being a lot better than I am at separating birds from their surroundings and then identifying them.

I was with Julian Sykes, a Yorkshireman based near Valencia who runs his own wildlife-holidays company, and four of his customers. Mike and Jane were retired, from aviation and computing, respectively. Deirdre, a piano teacher, seemed to be defying retirement, whereas Elizabeth, a former nursery nurse, had embraced it early. All of them were experienced birders, and Julian clearly had two pairs of eyes, for he had no trouble watching roads and reed beds at the same time.

I was blind by comparison, but I didn't need experience or the Collins Bird Guide to enjoy one of the highlights of that first afternoon: a huge flock of glossy ibis in flight, its undulating lines like the streamers of some giant kite.

Earlier, we had passed several flocks of glossy ibis on the ground, Elizabeth counting 92 of them in one place. On the way back to the hotel, Julian told us that people regularly underestimate in such counts by up to 15 per cent, so bird and wildlife surveyors up their estimates to compensate. It was a remark that would become a running gag for the rest of the trip.

That evening set the pattern for the week. We returned at dusk to our hotel, a rustic single-storey place of pine and white walls. We had a drink in the bar, moved into the restaurant for dinner, then reclaimed our original seats to hear a reminder from Julian of where we had been and to list what we had seen. At least the others did; I was happy to look on.

Day two took us back to the Canal Vell, its reeds golden in the morning sun, then to a windswept beach with an end-of-season feel at Riumar, then right across the northern delta to the coastal town of L'Ampolla and the reserve of Bassa de les Olles. Along the way we passed signs saying "Reserva de Caza" (hunting), a reminder that many visitors to the delta are intent not just on watching wildfowl but on shooting them.

Some species we had now seen so often we barely bothered to mention them, the great white egret among them. Yet only seven years ago, Julian told us, it was a scarce bird here. Numbers are increasing, too, of wintering osprey, but we still felt privileged to see one drop down to catch a fish – not so much knifing into the water as blasting.

In the bar that night, once bird species had been accounted for, Julian asked about animals. Liz had seen a lizard: "It was when I was behind a bush." Deirdre: "That's what you call multitasking."

On day three we were heading inland by 8.30, the low sun lighting every blade of stubble. The fields were still as glass, the water moving only under the feet of the birds. We passed a sign for a theme park. "Dinosaur!" Elizabeth shouted, and Mike responded: "That's definitely a write-in."

"Pseudo-steppe" was how Julian had described our destination and – but for the view of the city of Lérida on one side – we might have been in Central Asia: a rolling brown land with a few pyramid-like hills; so dusty that the ploughmen in the stony fields had handkerchiefs round mouth and nose. Dusty, but far from barren.

Elizabeth alerted us to a hare, streaking between two rows of bushes. Crested lark and skylark picked their way among the furrows. Some way off, Mike found a little owl, and Julian trained his telescope on it so we could all have a closer look at its broad head, speckled breast and yellow eyes. Jane spotted a merlin, which took fright and flight when Mike opened the minibus door. Circling above us was a flock of linnets.

After dinner that evening, Elizabeth told us that she reckoned she had by now seen 91 species of birds.

"How far have you driven?" Jane asked Julian.

"Two hundred and fifty kilometres," he guessed.

"Plus 15 per cent," said Mike.

In the morning, with the forecast promising high winds and showers, we drove to the southern half of the delta, pausing at a hide where a couple of trees were draped with egrets as if with Christmas lights. We were heading for Punta de la Banya, a 6,000-acre reserve of beach, dunes, salt marsh and salt mine – the product of the last heaped in a shimmering white pile ahead of us.

The journey proved to be the highlight. To reach the reserve, we drove along a spit of sand with water on both sides. Towards the end, there was more water than sand under our wheels, and Julian, fearful that the minibus would get bogged down, suggested that the rest of us get out and walk while he eased it through the wettest stretch.

Once we had parked, we had another walk of a mile and a quarter, the tide making pools not only on the seaward side but sometimes behind us. After that, the birding was a bit of a let-down, with little to be seen through mist and drizzle.

Our next stops, the Tancada Lagoon and Riet Vell, proved more rewarding. At the latter, a reserve surrounded by organic rice fields and owned by the SEO (Sociedad Española de Ornitología), we finally caught sight of a species that had been playing hide-and-seek with us for days: the bluethroat, a small, long-legged member of the chat family that is renowned for mimicking other birds (and even reindeer bells). Julian heard one call, spotted it in the open, and then turned his telescope on it so that we could all admire its bright blue bib.

Of Europe's 20,000 or so pairs of griffon vultures, 90 per cent are reckoned to be in Spain. One of the best places to see them is the Els Ports natural reserve, in the mountain chain known as the Sistema Ibérico, where we spent our last full day. We were still on the outskirts when Julian caught sight of a couple, and we tumbled out of the minibus to watch them circle overhead, on broad wings that ended in long "fingers".

We had only just entered the park proper, chasms opening up on one side, peaks soaring on the other, when we saw a blur of horns and hooves cross the road and enter cover. "Iberian ibex," said Julian – the wild goat of the mountains.

A couple of hundred yards farther along, a red squirrel – darker than any reds I have seen elsewhere – darted down a tree and across the road. We stopped, eased open the doors, and caught sight of it disappearing up another tree. For the next quarter of an hour, until rain drove us into shelter, I struggled to see anything much in the canopy, as the others ticked off mistle thrush, serin, nuthatch, and crested, coal and blue tit.

Then, following a pause so we could eat our packed lunch, it was my turn. Alerted by Mike to the sound of drumming, I wandered 50 yards away from the others, and spent three or four minutes with my binoculars trained on the black-and-white plumage of a great spotted woodpecker. When it flew off, I strolled back down to the others – and realised that they were still trying to locate it.

None of us missed the next appearances of the ibex. First a female and her calf wandered down a distant ridge; then another female stepped right to the line where ridge met sky, as if to give us an uncluttered view through the telescope.

At a mirador (viewpoint) where we stopped on our return, a griffon vulture was equally obliging, pausing on a rocky platform so we could have a good look through the telescope at its brown body, white ruff and yellowish bill. I've seen those features caricatured often, but this wasn't a bird in a cartoon, this was a bird in command.

Back near sea level in our hotel that night, one offering on the menu was "Arrossejat del Delta". Delta rice with something – but what? "Nothing," said our waiter with a smile. "It's rice with rice. But it's very good." And so it was: like a fish paella from which the flesh of the fish had been removed. Julian and I ordered it, and most of the others had a taste.

Then there was the final post-prandial tallying of bird species. In all, Julian reckoned, we had seen 123 in five days. My own count was considerably lower, but my senses had definitely been heightened. On the walk to my local newsagent's next morning, I saw birds everywhere.

Catalonia basics

Michael Kerr travelled to Spain with British Airways (0844 493 0758; ba.com/barcelona), which offers a seven-night fly-drive to Barcelona from £169 per person sharing for travel until May 25. The price includes return British Airways flight from Heathrow and Avis car hire.

In Deltebre he stayed at the Delta Hotel (deltahotel.net; double rooms from 50 euros/£41 a night depending on season).

In Catalonia he was the guest of Julian Sykes Wildlife Holidays (0034 962 852925; juliansykeswildlife.com). Its next trips are to La Mancha and Extremadura (March 24-31, April 18-25; £1,150 per person sharing, not including flights); to northwest Spain in pursuit of wolves (April 26-May 1; £750 per person sharing, not including flights); and to the Plains and Pyrenees of Aragon (May 27-June 3; £1,190 per person sharing, not including flights). Besides Spain, the company organises trips to India, Turkey, Morocco, Estonia, Poland and Jordan.